Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Jackson laughs and we turn our attention back to the ice.
Penn wins the puck clean, snapping it back to King on defense. King immediately dishes it up the boards to Stone, who races across the blue line, dodging a defender. Boone trails on the opposite wing, and the three of them converge on the Edmonton net like a freaking wrecking crew.
My heart leaps into my throat as the puck gets passed to Penn in the high slot. He hesitates, considers taking the shot, and then zips it right back to Stone through a defender’s legs. Stone is already winding up and rips it. The goaltender doesn’t react in time and the red light flashes.
“YES!” I scream, springing to my feet. Sure, Stone’s goal was beautiful, but that assist was magical.
Jackson stands, clapping loudly. He grins down at me. “Your boy’s got wicked hands.”
Yes, he does.
My cheeks burn as I watch Penn’s line celebrate. His smile is mega-wattage and it warms my heart. “He’s not—well, he is my boy—but…”
“You’re cute when you fluster,” he says, eyes crinkling. “And no need to explain. I’ve read the files.”
We settle back into our seats. “You read about what happened ten years ago?”
“Sure. That too,” he replies casually. “But I was actually referring to your love story.”
I blink. “Our what?”
He turns to me with a smirk. “I can get a lot from reading the files, but I want to hear how it went from shared trauma between you and Penn to all those heart eyes I keep catching you making at him when you think no one’s looking.”
I gape at him. “That’s not—”
“You just called him ‘my boy,’” Jackson points out, his gaze going to the ice where a new face-off is setting up. “You don’t get to hide behind friend labels after that.”
My jaw works, but no words come.
“Come on,” he says, gentler now, bumping his shoulder against mine. “Tell me the truth. What happened after you two came forward? I know you left Muskogee. I know you’ve barely spoken in the last ten years. So how did we get from there… to now?”
I shift in my seat, looking back to the ice. “It’s complicated.”
“Most real things are,” Jackson says quietly. “Trust me… I know from personal experience.”
Maybe it’s his own admission that relationships are complicated, but I exhale shakily.
“We didn’t talk for years. I didn’t even know if he remembered me. I mean, of course I knew he remembered the case, but me? I figured I was just the girl who backed up his story. The girl who ruined her family in the process.”
“But you reached out,” he guesses.
I nod. “When the threats got more violent, I panicked. I didn’t know who else would understand. So, I approached him and at first, he didn’t want anything to do with me.”
“Survivor’s guilt,” Jackson says.
I jolt in surprise, angling my body toward him. I ignore the action on the ice. “Survivor’s guilt? What does that mean? Penn isn’t a survivor.”
“Sure he is,” Jackson says. “As are you. You both went through that entire hazing incident. You survived the ordeal, but you were traumatized by what happened and the way you were treated. You’re still being traumatized.”
“But guilt?” I press.
“You don’t come out of something like that without wondering a million times if you did the right thing, because by doing one action to benefit someone, there’s someone else who gets hurt.”
I nod, understanding what Jackson’s saying. Penn was made to feel like he betrayed not just the few guys involved but the entire team. That’s the guilt he’s felt, even if he knows deep in his gut he did the right thing. But I don’t share that with Jackson. It has nothing to do with his duties to protect us and that’s Penn’s private story to share if he wants to.
“But still,” Jackson continues cheerily. “It’s cool that you two reconnected in a way that I’m betting neither of you were counting on.”
“A lot’s happened in a very short time,” I say as my eyes follow the on-ice action. It’s short-lived, as a TV time-out starts.
“You seem worried,” Jackson says, giving me another reassuring bump of his shoulder. “But I assure you, you and Penn are completely safe, and we’ll be by your side through to the end.”
I shoot Jackson a smile. “Of that, I am not worried.”
“But you are worried about something,” he presses.
“I’m terrified,” I admit with a mirthless laugh, my eyes drifting over to Penn who’s now on the bench, head bent close to Stone as he says something. “Of what happens when this ends. When the stalker is caught. What if it was just the adrenaline keeping us together?”
“You really think that’s all it is?”
“No,” I say instantly, then falter. “But I don’t know if he’s ready for more. Or if I am. And there’s so much mess between us.”